


Happy Idiot

by Pyou



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, M/M, i don't even know if it's proper balle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyou/pseuds/Pyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calle and Bård are left stuck in the office, trying to finish a script for some skit, but computers can apparently sense fear when deadline is close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Written on wonderful Aylin's, who never gets tired of my Balle rant, prompt : 
> 
> They’ve been at work for hours, typing away at some new skit for a while and then they’re almost done but then there’s a computer virus suddenly that eats everything up and it’s all gone and they’re so tired because it’s already in the middle of the night and person A gets angry and desperate and a bit whiny, and person B just tells him to calm the fuck down and that they’ll meet the deadline, no worries. And then person B ends up rewriting all of it while person A falls asleep on a chair/sofa next to him.
> 
> Barely any proofreading/editing.

Bård rubbed his neck for a few moments before setting his fingers back on the keyboard, continuing with some dialogue he and Calle had discussed previously. He wondered if it really was funny, because it definitely didn’t seem so at 2 am in their office, but they had laughed their butts off coming up with that during lunch.

It was always like this with him and writing – he enjoyed the idea immensely, but working on it just sucked him empty and everything felt so clumsy when acting. That’s why he was the one to do the first draft version, the one that would look good on paper, the one that would be for reading. Then Calle would take over and turn it into a script version they actually needed to know by heart for a skit to work. Of course they put some improvising in during practice and actual performance or filming, but both of their work was equally just as important.

“Done,” he declared finally and Calle sighed, expressing them both at this point – Bård’s relief and his own desperation to get done with it. He took the laptop from Bård, scooting closer so the other could see his progress. It was easier if the other corrected any mistakes that might have happened during the writing and say if it went too far from the original text.

Calle had just gotten half way through the whole thing, when the screen of their office laptop just froze and blacked. “What…?” Calle muttered, looking around to see if one of them had accidentally managed to pull the cord from the plug, but everything seemed to be in order. He pressed some keys on the keyboard but nothing changed. Bård swore.

“What did you do?” he asked, voice grumpy, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Calle snorted and shook his head as Bård let out another annoyed sigh.

“Will you please be quiet I’m trying to figure this out,” he said, pressing the button to turn the laptop on again. Still nothing happened. “I want to go home just as badly as you,” he added after a moment, seeing the younger guy opening his mouth, probably a bitter comment on his tongue.

“It’s obviously not working,” Bård said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the irrational panic rising in him. It happened. It was okay. The computer saved stuff in every couple of minutes, nothing was going to be missing.

Calle grunted and pulled the cord from the laptop, turning it around to extract the battery. It wasn’t the first time he wished they had changed all of their office devices to Apple ones, since there really seemed to be less problems with those. Finally getting the battery back, the computer started up again. “See, it’s going to be fine.”

Shrugging, Bård rose from the sofa and stretched a bit, bringing himself a bottle of water. “It better hurry up,” he muttered, whiny tone evident in his voice. “I promised we’d send it by the morning, like 6 or 7 so the team could look it over and if it’s not ready by then…” he kept going as Calle took a deep breath.

“Will you _please_ calm down?” he asked, but Bård didn’t even seem to notice him properly, the other just kept rambling about the responsibilities and what else. “Bård. Calm. The. Fuck. Down. Now,” Calle said finally, voice louder than necessary and the other actually looked a bit embarrassed, popping down beside him once again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Calle sent his friend a little smile and opened the text file on the desktop. “Uh oh. Bård. I think we can’t save it,” he said after a moment or two trying clicking almost everywhere. He looked weary as Bård just stared at him, pushing hands through his hair.

“Great. Perfect. Of course. Who said we had enough time?” Bård closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the sofa. “I told you we were supposed to start this earlier.”

“We didn’t really have an idea then,” Calle answered, voice dry and slightly trembling. Though he was used to working under pressure into late hours, it made him irritable to have someone with him who just wanted to bring the mood down and ruin every last bit motivation they had left.

Bård pressed his lips together. “We could have gone with something simpler!” he said finally, crossing his arms and staring ahead, not wanting to look Calle in the eyes by accident. He knew. Oh, he knew he was acting like a brat but once starting to boil over it was difficult for him to admit it and keep himself under some control. It was easier to just go with the mood and not fight it.

So it was Calle’s turn to be an adult, as he figured. “Come on now. We will finish it, I can do the script part faster now anyway, since I watched you write it. You can do the proper writing later if it is absolutely necessary, but I think we can skip it once,” he said, patting Bård’s knee in a reassuring manner as he tried to inject some positivity into the guy.

Bård was obviously struggling with himself as he tried to answer calmly. He wasn’t sure, but there had to be a point with Calle as well, when the other just had had it. Still, he couldn’t keep his answer completely under control. “What has been the point of all this work,” he muttered, “We could have just said we can’t do this right now, I think Vegard would even have been okay with it.”

“I said I can do it on my own,” Calle said simply, without even sparing a look for him. Bård shifted a bit uncomfortably, assuring he actually wants to help, but Calle shook his head. “No, you don’t. And I don’t want you to. It’s not going to work out if you just keep whining beside me.”

Biting his lip, Bård leaned a bit closer. “I’m sorry.”

Calle finally turned to look at him and nodded, appreciating the apology in silence. “Now get some sleep,” he ordered, to which Bård’s face turned from worried to confused. “I prefer you that way,” Calle chuckled and Bård let out a quiet laugh as well.

“I can’t, though. I should help you somehow. Do you want me to type, you can tell me,” he answered after Calle had written down first several lines, clicking the save button violently at the end of each row.

“Oh come on, you big baby,” Calle said, moving to the side of the sofa. “Go on, lay down here and let me do the work,” he added soon after and finally Bård complied, resting his head towards Calle as he hoisted his feet up on the sofa’s armrest. He fit pretty comfortably, only that his head was somewhat pressed against the other’s thigh.

It didn’t take long for Bård to drift off and even though Calle was actually more tired than he admitted, he got on with the work pretty quickly. He sent the script in a mail, praying for computer not to freeze or do other tricks on him again, and succeeded. He sighed and stretched, looking at the sleepy man beside him.

He rested his hand on his hair, gently stroking it and Bård stirred a bit, turning to look at Calle. “Is it morning?” he asked, a little breathless, and Calle shook his head, fond smile on his face, lines near his mouth even more visible than usually.

“Sorry for waking you up. I just finished. Do you want me to take you home?”

“It’s fine,” Bård yawned, trying to make some sense of what was going on. His mind was a bit slow registering situations when so awfully sleepy. “And frankly I don’t care where I am sleeping as long as I am. I just think that you shouldn’t drive, being tired as well.”

“Maybe.” Calle gave his shoulder a little pat. “Let’s go to the rest area then. There is this couch you can make into a bed, it’s better than nothing,” he suggested and finally Bård got into the sitting position, nodding.

They made their way to the mentioned room and as soon as Calle had managed to open the couch, Bård fell on it, not even caring about taking off his shoes. Groaning, Calle pulled his Hummels off and set them beside the door, leaving his shoes there as well. He also managed to locate a comforter sent by some fan, and dragged it with him.

“I’m cold,” Bård whined, half asleep, as he lay down.

“I know. Come here now,” Calle suggested and Bård snuggled closer to him, feeling the familiar scent even stronger in the small area. His hands were pressed between them as he set his face under Calle’s chin, nose touching his neck.

Calle placed his arms around Bård and pulled him even closer, trying to make them both as comfortable as possible in this quite inconvenient make-do bed. “It _is_ pretty chilly,” he explained and Bård snickered, sighing after a moment and letting himself drift asleep, feeling warm and content and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is like 600 words longer than I originally planned but... also I did start something else a few days ago but Balle still wins my heart. :)


End file.
